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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701648">Sancticide</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintbernard/pseuds/saintbernard'>saintbernard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DreamSMP, Video Blogging RPF, mcyt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Angst, Bottom!Wilbur, Eventual Smut, Hybrid!Jschlatt, M/M, Panic Attacks, Panic attack happens in Ch3, Religious Themes, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Smut in Chapter 6! Now available!, Top!Jschlatt, mild blood play</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:55:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28701648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintbernard/pseuds/saintbernard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Wilbur looked out over the face of the water, where the setting sun became a splintered mosaic on its rippling surface, and wondered if it would still look as beautiful when the water filled their lungs.</i>
</p>
<p>Sancticide | the killing of a saint.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>492</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is based loosely around a mix of the DreamSMP, and the water levels rising challenge. It's not set inherently in either, just inspired by both. Tags will likely be updated as I go along, for some reason I'm struggling to get them to mind.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What do you want me to do?!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schlatt’s voice echoed inside the tower’s damp walls. He strode a pace forward, flaring his nostrils as he closed the distance between himself and Wilbur. A soft red glow emanated from his hircine eyes. As he descended the stone stairs, the clack of his hooves resonated alongside the deep boom of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? What do you want from me? We have nothing, Wilbur! They took everything from us!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The goat hybrid drew back his lips in a snarl, bearing the pearly white of his teeth and those sharp canine fangs. Wilbur swallowed hard and stood his ground, his brow creasing. Said silent resolve wasn’t taken well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur wasn’t quick enough to flee when the goat lunged for him. He felt one of Schlatt’s twisted ‘paws’ wrap around his throat - long, narrow digits clasping tight around his neck. The goatman’s palms were leathery - calloused and work-worn - with skin rough enough to almost scratch. Schlatt’s other hand gripped Wilbur’s jaw, forcing him to meet his eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They exiled us, Wilbur. They’re not letting us back,” Schlatt gave a bitter laugh, “This is us now, Wil. We’re stuck in this hell - just the two of us. Probably ‘til we're dead.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Maybe they’ll change their minds,” Wilbur urged, his strangled airways turning his voice into a strained squeal.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Like fuck they will! You’re fooling yourself, Soot, you really are.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Letting go, Schlatt threw the man to the floor. He stomped towards the window, and gave an enraged bleat, snowy ears flicking back against his head. Wilbur watched, rubbing his cheek where blots of blood formed by the dig of Schlatt’s sharp black claws. It had only been a week since they’d been sentenced, and they were already falling apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two were imprisoned in a small zone. By the day, the water levels grew higher. They built a tower of stone as high as it could go, and would keep building until they reached their limit. They had stashed food. Until the water washed away their farm, they would keep going. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>But they knew that all of this would only deter the inevitable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he found his footing, Wilbur drew from the tower to the bay, where the water licked at the sand a little more than it had this morning. He dipped his shoe into the flow and kicked the dampened sand over itself. At this rate, they faced a very watery grave -- should hunger not take them first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All for a change of heart and a foolish rebellion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur knew that was where so much of Schlatt’s current anger stemmed from. He’d grown sentimental; his lasting loyalties to his now-cellmate had guilt gnawing at him for turning away. He came back to him, and they plotted. Apparently, Dream hadn’t liked such dissent; he certainly hadn’t liked it when he discovered the pair intended to overthrow his land. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, if not for the TNT prepped to blow, maybe they would have gotten a lighter sentence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Forget Dream! Forget Tommy, Tubbo, the rest of those fuckers. It’s us, Wilbur. This place is </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>ours</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. And we’ll burn it to the ground if we have to.”</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <span>Schlatt had spoken with such conviction at the time, clutching the man’s hands tenderly in his claws.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I know I left you, but I just… I needed to get a little perspective, that’s all. Wil, we’re in this together - we always have been.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though those words got them into this mess, he couldn’t help the swell of emotion that swept him. Schlatt had been his most trusted friend, and when he had turned his back on L’Manberg - on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wilbur</span>
  </em>
  <span> - it broke his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And sure, when he came back with intent to seize and control L’Manberg, it put a sour taste in his mouth. But Schlatt could be so convincing, and soon enough, he was drawn into his intricately weaved illusion of potential power, and total control of this land felt only an inch away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It all seemed so silly now. The consequence hammered that fact home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was a horrible thing to be fated to - that was why Wilbur remained so convinced it would be overturned. No doubt this imprisonment would be to make a point; they wouldn’t be made to go out this way. Dream wasn’t that cruel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur looked out over the face of the water, where the setting sun became a splintered mosaic on its rippling surface, and wondered if it would still look as beautiful when the water filled their lungs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of hooves clicked surely behind him, and he reflexively balled his hands into fists. A solemn snort came from behind as Schlatt joined him on shore.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Neither knew what to say.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur remained on edge from the fight; Schlatt had an apology stuck in his throat, his red eyes stayed downcast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beyond the boundaries, they could see their former friends getting on with their lives. To their knowledge, the exiled had fled - they were blind to their new lodgings. There was something profoundly lonely about that. Worse still when they seemed to veer around the boundary as though it was natural; they would never question it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schlatt turned his head toward his companion, and nuzzled his nose against his cheek.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I'm sorry.” </span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It was the best he could manage. The goat rested his head against Wilbur’s, and smiled a little as a hand came to scratch the wiry brown hair on his cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cold air of the night sunk its teeth into them, goosebumps prickling Wilbur's arms. On the water, the splintering light began to fade, and the prismatic shards dulled to a sorrowful, uniform blue. Schlatt’s hooves started to sink into the mud as the water licked at his heels. Slipping a hand around Wilbur’s wrist, he tugged him back into the tower. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A goat reflects on his religious upbringing</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wilbur nestled himself on the windowsill, tender knees pulled in tightly to his chest. Everything ached from climbing the ladder up to their room. He leaned his head on the cool glass, and watched as his breath fogged up the pane. It was hard to see down to the lake's shore from here, the tower's height cutting off a great deal of view, but the barest slip of sand caught his eye before being swallowed by the rising tide.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other side of the room, by the furnaces, Schlatt stabbed at some beef. Juices oozed out from the meat, sizzling on the stone slab it cooked on. The air in their mock penthouse suite was awash with the mouthwatering, savoury odor the furnace exuded - exacerbated by hunger. They had to eat sparingly; they only had so many resources. Every meal now was a blessing.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be ready soon,” Schlatt called, “Y’know, if you want to get out of your mood before then.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m not in a ‘mood’,” Wilbur’s tone wasn’t exactly true to his words, “I’m just tired.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crossing the room to join him by the sill, the goatman sighed. He stood at the end by Wilbur’s feet, and turned his gaze outward, his jaw clenched. A pair of bats tore across the star-speckled midnight blue, and flew out beyond the border.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Wilbur took a wistful vigil by the sill, Schlatt turned his attention away, drawn to one of the canvases on the wall. He looked upon the face of Raguel, and thought upon the saints and angels he prayed to with devotion to when he was young. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were long forgotten now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Upon finishing the painting, it crossed his mind that Raguel was not an angel he would have prayed to anyway - there was something funny in that. Judaism was a far cry from his ruthlessly Catholic upbringing; he only knew his visage from a pack of Oracle cards his mother kept in the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he had to admit in that cynical Catholic humour, that you only think about God and his friends in the best and worst of times. He painted the archangel out of spite. Raguel represented the justice he felt robbed of. Justice - but also vengeance and redemption. Deep down in his rotten heart, Schlatt hoped that the tribute would manifest the latter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But call to God, to Jesus, to the Angels, Archangels, and Saints, Schlatt knew that no answer would come. He set a firm hand on Wilbur's knee and squeezed, giving one final glimpse out the window before tending to the brewing burnt smell in the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur shifted down from the sill, over to their little table, and let Schlatt serve the food. A half of a large steak each, served with half of a bread roll, would have to do them for the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ate in silence. The goatman wanted to fill the void, but all the conversation that came to mind wasn't worth a thing. Opposite him, there came no real will to speak, and a downturned face largely hidden by a shield of shaggy brown hair. It didn't take long for the quiet to grow too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're still pissed with me, then?" Schlatt offered, taking a bite of his steak. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I'm not pissed with you. I already told you - I'm tired."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"We both know that ain't true, Wilbur. You're a terrible liar. I upset you, and I'm sorry. How many times have I got to say it before you just get over it? I got mad at you, I roughed you up a bit, and I feel bad for it. Okay?"</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Toward the end of his rant, Schlatt stood up from the table. His ears twitched with frustration. He stomped over to Wilbur, and felt only spurred on when he saw the man flinch. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Oh, what, you're scared of me now? Is that it? You're frightened? Look at me, Wilbur."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur made an attempt to shuffle out of his chair, but he was soon kept in place by a hand on his thigh, and another on his jaw, forcing his head up. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Look at me!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, he did. And for that moment, Schlatt could see the glaze of tears in his bloodshot eyes, starting to spill out over his cheeks. He let go. Wilbur didn't have it in him to move, legs buckled, only dropping his gaze to his lap and balling his fists as he fought back the encroaching sniffles. Schlatt just looked at him, feeling worse than he had before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I… I'm sorry, Wil. I got carried away. Fuck - I… I didn't mean to make you cry." </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He pawed away a tear from Wilbur's cheek.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I'm sorry." </span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>There was something so broken to the hybrid's tone, for once utterly sincere in his remorse.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Look, eat your dinner. You'll feel better for it. C'mon Wil." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no answer gained. Schlatt could see him blinking his eyes shut as hard as he could, trying not to cry anymore. He didn't know what to do. Picking up the last of his meal, Schlatt descended the ladder, giving Wilbur some room to breathe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to do something about his temper; God knows it’ll be the death of him. Hell, when it came down to it, it already was. He looked out past the boundary, onward to L’Manberg, and finished his meal with the decorum of a beast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he was done, the night had fully set in - monsters were passing into their boundary. Schlatt beat a few zombies off with an axe, before making a break for the tower, and climbing his way back up to the top floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur was already in the bed. He faced the wall, blankets pulled over him as much as possible, and appeared to be sleeping. To Schlatt’s relief, he’d finished his dinner before turning in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Schlatt shed his business attire, leaving it in a heap with Wilbur’s jeans and jumper at the foot of the bed. Before imprisonment, he would never have tossed his clothes around so liberally, but there was no point in immaculate upkeep anymore. What would be the point in running a business with only one customer?</span>
</p>
<p><span>He got under the covers, lying on his back beside Wilbur. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him bristle. Schlatt chuckled lowly, but said nothing. As much as he wished to provoke him in some way, he figured he should give Wil a break this time, especially after earlier.</span> </p>
<p>
  <span>But the air in the room was cold, and there was a tempting warmth beside him. Schlatt rolled onto his side, draping an arm around Wilbur's middle and sighing into the nape of his neck. Though he turned rigid at first, he felt Wilbur sink weight back into him, and set a hand on his arm. Schlatt moved his fingers in senseless patterns over Wilbur's stomach, nosing into his neck again. Within an hour, they were swallowed by sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tw: panic attack</p><p>local goatman realises he's never actually cared about other people before and freaks out</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was no sand untouched by water now. Overnight, the blue swallowed up the shore, lapping up into the grassy hem. Schlatt turned up his trouser legs, and waded waist deep. Fish flitted in and out of the border, and it would do them well to at least try and catch some. Plus, he felt it might make Wilbur happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure when Wilbur’s happiness became a concern of his, but it had been nagging at him as of late. It was the situation, he reminded himself, it must be: he was better off not upsetting the only person he had left. It would make for a more peaceful end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had to admit, as he flexed his clawed fingers, that this feeling was new. Sure, he’d cared a little about the man before this - especially before he took a leave of absence - but his interest came from cultivating loyalty, more than genuinely preserving his feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was, for lack of better wording, a business relationship. He gave Wilbur attention, and he got some form of service for it - be it in the form of tasks, negotiations, or basic errands. And when Schlatt came back, he fed him geniality for allegiance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An allegiance that he intended to break the moment he got his way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was guilt. Schlatt may have been a ruthless businessman, but he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>heartless</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knew that he’d done wrong, dragging Wilbur into this, and God - he regretted every second spent plotting. A salmon swept through the water towards him; he skewered its gills on a claw, and threw it to the grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish</span>
  </em>
  <span> - Luke 13:5; the quote crossed his mind once again. Would repentance do a thing in this case? This matter was not in God’s hands. Yet this was how Wilbur acted - like their remorse would in some way free them of this fatal incarceration. It was stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was their punishment, there was no changing that. He pounced upon another fish as it tried to shoot past him. It made a terrible crunching sound under his grip; he had to shake his hand to get it off again. Two fish - that would have to do. He emptied their guts into the water, slicing their bellies open with his claws. It was getting too cold like this. He washed the muck off of his hands in the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Schlatt dragged himself to the new shoreline, he tried not to think too hard about how quickly it would encroach on them. His suit jacket dripped from the waist down, and his trousers were plastered to his legs. Grabbing the fish, he went back into the tower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was still asleep when he came up, so he was quiet as he set the furnace alight and shoved the fish in. He shed his coat, sticking it over the back of one of the chairs. There was no way he could stay dressed like this, soaked to the bone. Schlatt peeled off the rest of his clothes, arranging them on things near the furnace to dry off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those were his only actual clothes he had here. Almost all of his other belongings were left behind. All he could settle for right now were a pair of loose boxers, and a faded t-shirt. Schlatt would have been a dead man before he allowed himself to be seen in such casual attire in the day, let alone traipsing around in his underwear, but he supposed it didn't matter now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat on the edge of the bed. Wilbur slept on, brown hair splayed along the pillow and over his face. He was front on toward Schlatt, foetal, holding the pillow in one hand near his head. Schlatt gently brushed the hair away from Wilbur's face, the barest smile tugging at his lips as he admired his sleeping profile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His porcelain skin was almost doll-like, and as smooth and soft to the touch as he expected. Schlatt was careful, for once, not to catch him with a claw. He pet with the back of his knuckles at first, before smoothing a finger carefully over the line of his fuzzy brown brows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt felt a brewing warmth in his chest that he wished was heartburn. It was a strange feeling to him - this affection that gnawed at his thoughts - and every part of him wanted to run from it. There was nowhere to go. He considered doubling down on the cruelty, forcing Wilbur away. They would just end up miserable together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a weary sigh. Maybe it was St. Anthony's calling - leading his lost soul to some form of salvation. He didn't need to be lonely anymore.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Though, was he lonely before? Schlatt had never considered it. He had been content to be alone, to strive and work for himself, never needing anyone else. It didn't ever upset him that he had no 'friends' - he didn't need those. Friends get in the way, they disappoint you, they tell you what to do with your money and how to 'earn it properly'. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But in these moments of evanescent domesticity, he felt a sense of comfort and joy that he didn't want to lose. To sit here fawning over Wilbur, toying with his hair and listening to the soft sound of his breathing, he felt content. He had never felt that before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, it was like his heart was about to blow, beating so fast he felt winded from it. Schlatt swallowed hard, and realised his fingers were shaking as he tried to carry on toying with Wilbur's hair. He pulled his hand away, instead to his chest as a worsening shortness of breath set in. He felt sick. Moving away from the bed, he staggered to the window, urgent for air. He sunk to the floor beneath the sill, shuddering and gasping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Schlatt?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur scurried out from the sheets as soon as he saw him, dragging the blanket along with him. He wrapped the cover around the goatman's shoulders, and took his hands in his own. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Schlatt, it's okay, you're okay," He spoke softly, squeezing his hands, "Deep breaths - can you do that for me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grip on Wilbur's hands was vice-like, his claws biting into the skin as he shook. Wilbur tried to fight back a grimace. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Oh God," Schlatt panted, pain shooting through his chest.  He sounded terrified. "Am I dying, Wilbur? I feel like I'm dying. Oh Christ… This can't be it, Wil, not like this. Not--"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"You're okay, Schlatt. You're having a panic attack, but you'll be okay." Wilbur gave his hands a squeeze, "But I'm going to need you to listen to me, okay? Breathe with me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was patient, gentle. He kept his voice fairly quiet. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"In for five, out for five."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt did as he was told. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Tell me something you can smell in the room."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"The fish cooking."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Something you can hear?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"The fire crackling." </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Something you can feel?" </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Your hands. The stone digging into my back." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Schlatt had calmed down, he looked to his lap, ashamed. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>had that been about? He'd made a fool of himself. But instead of being teased for his little fit, Wilbur just sat and smiled, continuing to stroke his hands. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Are you feeling better?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I guess." Schlatt pulled his hands back, and noticed something damp on his claws, smudged down his fingers, "Did I hurt you?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur shook his head, "Not really, don't worry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now the claws had unhooked, the blood began to pool at the incisions, welling up and spilling down his hands in thin rivers. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Wait there," Schlatt grumbled, grabbing bandages from a chest. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Weirdly, it doesn't hurt that much."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>A few drops spilled onto the floor.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Yeah, well, you're making a mess of my house. Give me your hands."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sat patiently as his wounds were dressed, watching Schlatt's expressions as he did it. His jaw was set, clenched, as he focused on keeping the gauze still while the bandages were wrapped around it. His eyes were hard focused on the task, clearly avoiding Wilbur’s out of guilt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“It’s okay, Schlatt. I’m not hurt. It’s just a little blood.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>When the bandage was wrapped, he stepped away, wandering over to the furnace. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I brought you some fish.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I noticed,” Wilbur followed him, “Thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood there silently for a while, both watching the fish as the flames lapped it from beneath, its skin starting to char. Schlatt pulled it out onto a slate, and set that on the table. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I gutted it, but the bones are still in there. Don’t choke.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Aren’t you having any?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt sighed, but sat opposite him, as though this was some sort of chore. Wilbur just laughed a little. They picked at the fish until the bones were clean. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about earlier?” Wilbur asked.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I don’t even know what happened.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“That’s okay. Thank you for getting food today.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Someone has to do it.” Schlatt shrugged. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this one was kind of hard to write given the emotional tension. i hope the way the panic attack was written was good, i tried to write based off what i've experienced during them but i'm not sure how convincing it came out </p><p>eitherway!! hope you all enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SBI dynamics... yes, good for the angst : )</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wilbur came down to tend to the crops. God, his hands hurt terribly, but he took the stone hoe in his aching palms and plowed the land beside their home. By tomorrow, the water would wash away the crops at the far end, at very least - he would harvest what he could today, and replant things further up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was his job. Schlatt called him too sensitive to hunt anything, too weak to take anything down.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>'Just… I don't know, plant some wheat or something, if the hoe ain't too heavy for you.'</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It wouldn't be a lie to say that hurt his feelings. But Wilbur did as he was told, and he had to admit, he appreciated the structure brought by having a daily task. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raked the hoe through the dirt and sighed, scattering a few seeds into the earth. Would these even have a chance to grow? Wilbur felt an unshakable sense of hopelessness come over him; everything they were doing was just wasting time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur tried to focus on the task at hand, and not the spiralling thoughts washing over him. He tried not to look out beyond the border; he tried to keep himself from searching for his former friends, from searching for his </span>
  <em>
    <span>family.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed his dad. He missed him enough that the sound of his voice from a distance made his throat tighten. Everything in him sought the comfort of Phil's arm over his shoulder, telling him that everything would be alright. Wilbur swallowed hard, and hit the hoe head into the dirt: a swing at catharsis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed his brothers, awful as they could be. What he wouldn't do for Tommy to drive him up the wall, shouting and screaming, getting himself into trouble for the thousandth time. What he wouldn't give to feel Techno punch his arm, even if it was the kind of punch that made it go numb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would never know those feelings again. </span>
</p><p><span>And he didn't suppose anything would come even remotely close to it.</span> <span>Schlatt wasn't the most affectionate man; 'soft' feelings were not his forte. Ever since his panic attack, he'd been even more on edge, more primed to snap. To his best extent, Wilbur avoided him. Part of why he came down to tend to the plants was to stay out of Schlatt’s way. </span></p><p>
  <span>Wilbur leaned the hoe against the house, and wandered through shallow waters to the boundary. As his outstretched fingers stroked the invisible wall, he felt a painful jolt surge through him, enough to make him double back. Not only could they not cross through it, any attempt to do so would hurt them. It made sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trudged out of the water, to a patch of grass along the bay, and sat down. It was quiet. Usually, around this time, at least one person would have strayed past their hidden cage, but things remained silent.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Then, as if he summoned it, it happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder how Wilbur’s doing.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It was Phil. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur’s heart was in his mouth, his eyes welling up at the sound of his voice, “Dad?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“It’s Wil,” Tommy gave, “He’s probably chasing after that Schlatt fella.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I know Dream said they ran away but… I hope they come back soon. They’ve got ‘ta.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation faded into the distance, father and son returning to the city, disappearing out beyond the trees. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Dad! Tommy!” Wilbur wailed after them, having scurried to his feet, splashing through the water to the boundary, “Please! Dad! Come back!” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>His voice was hoarse; he beat his hands on the boundary, no care for the pain shooting through him each hit. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Dad!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur wailed and wailed, screaming after his family until his voice was gone. He sunk down into the water; it went up to his chest. Rasping sobs forced their way from his shuddering frame. He lost his fingers in his hair. The bandages were damp with blood, wounds reopened and seeping into the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is all the noise about?” Schlatt yelled, trotting over to the water’s edge, “What’s wrong with you?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Suddenly, Wilbur rose from the water. His clothes were soaked through. As he strode towards Schlatt, he made an awful clamour of splashes. He had a face like thunder. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“C’mon, Wil, calm down, tell me what’s going on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Schlatt</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is that you put us into this fucking death trap!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Oh, we’ve been over this already! Where’s your stupid optimism from before? </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Maybe they’ll change their minds?’</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The goatman’s tone was derisive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bloodied, bandaged hand cracked down on Schlatt’s cheek. He staggered back, shocked, a hand on the burning skin.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What the fuck was that for?” He balled a fist, ready to strike out in return. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“None of this matters to you, does it? You’ve got nothing to lose here!” Wilbur yowled, taking a step closer, “You’re a selfish, miserable, horrible </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I bet all you miss from out there is your ‘business’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Schlatt could get a word in to defend himself, teary-faced Wilbur bit again.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I have family out there, Schlatt! I have a dad, I have brothers! I have Fundy, who’s as good as my son! And I’ll never fucking see them again. I’ll never speak to them, see them, hug them… And I miss them so fucking much.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt unballed his fist; his expression dropped. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I didn’t even get to say goodbye.... or tell them I loved them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s head dropped as he took in a shaky breath. He sighed between sniffles, and looked towards the water. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“And I can’t even blame you, not completely. You talked me into it, but I didn’t have to listen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt took a cautious few steps forward, closing the rest of the space between them. Wilbur flinched, ready to receive a slap in return - or worse. Instead, Schlatt wrapped his arms around him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Wilbur. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I’m sorry I dragged you away from the people you love, for nothing more than my own greed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand rested on the back of Wilbur’s head, cradling him against his shoulder. Though a little shocked, Wilbur wrapped his arms around his middle. He was no Phil - he could never live up to the role - but the hug brought some comfort. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I can’t tell you everything will be alright, because it’s not. It’s really fucking not,” Schlatt’s voice warbled, “But we’re all we have left.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hybrid had never sounded so honest. Wilbur leaned into him a little more. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I could never claim to understand how you feel, I threw everything away when I had the chance.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I know.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You don’t deserve this. Not by a long shot.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“But I’m here.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“But you’re here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water crept up to knee height. Schlatt rocked Wilbur in his arms, swaying in the evening breeze, in time with the roll of the rising loch. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“We’re all we have left.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>poor wil just misses his family :(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a bit of a palette cleanser after the last two chapters, a little more lighthearted.</p><p>Also I could not help the blatant Father John Misty reference and I have no regrets</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They could no longer leave the tower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something unaccounted for was the exponential increase of the water level. By the day, it didn’t just grow taller, but faster. The surface now lay level with the entrance door. Wilbur sat in his place on the sill, where he took his daily devoted watch of the land. It was strange to see where the water stopped at the boundary, like it was in a glass box. They were practically living in a fish tank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know what they used to call me, Wil?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt spoke suddenly from the table, where he cleaned the meat from a chicken bone.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What did they call you, Schlatt?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“They called me ‘God’s Favourite Customer.’” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur furrowed his brow, giving a confused look towards him, “Yeah? Why’s that?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Because I’m a devout Catholic, why else?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur teased, “I’ve never seen you pray.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yeah, well… I haven’t had time. Been </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> busy lately.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur laughed, though there was a bleakness about the sound. He returned his gaze to the outside until Schlatt came to join him, resting a hand on his knee. The man looked up, and forced a bare, sombre smile. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What’s on your mind?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Do you think… Do you think this is really it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt squeezed his knee, and gave an echo of his joyless expression.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I don’t know,” He sighed, “But the end isn’t here just yet.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>There was an ache found in seeing Wilbur so sad. He brought his other hand up to cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the coarse fuzz of stubble.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“There’s plenty of time left, let's make the most of it.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“How?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though confused, Wilbur found himself leaning into the touch. He'd been desperate for affection since they were locked away in here, but he would never have imagined even an ounce of it from Schlatt. He figured the comfort he gave before was just a fluke. Yet, here he was, petting his cheek and looking down at him with suspiciously kind eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abruptly, he drew away - like he came to his senses somehow. His cheeks were flushed so dark they almost matched his eyes, and he took himself back to the table. Wilbur stifled a smirk, finding great humour in the stoic Schlatt coming undone like this. He couldn’t help a little teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's the matter with you?" </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Wilbur, don't start with me." </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I liked it when you were being nice. Come on, do it again."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>again?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Act nice. You cuddled me when I was sad the other day, that was good."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I didn't 'cuddle' you, Wil, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>comforted</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, because you were upset."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>cuddled </span>
  </em>
  <span>me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt stood up, ears flicking madly against his horns, "Listen here, Soot, I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> cuddle you."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"What are you getting all worked up for, Schlatt? You're all flustered. Look how pink your cheeks are!"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Yours are about to be much worse if you don't knock this off."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Oh, come on! Don't be grumpy! Is Schlatt gonna go off in a widdle sulk?" He put on a baby voice.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Christ, enough!" Schlatt slammed his hands on the table, "Knock it off!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur raised his brows, but went quiet. His face was plastered with a cheeky grin. It was strange - he wasn't afraid of Schlatt shouting this time. Maybe it was the fact he was blushing enough that he could see it under the white fur of his ears - there was something much less intimidating about that. Besides, this had been the first time in their sentence that Wilbur was having fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crossing the room to the furnaces, Schlatt huffed, firing it up and chucking in a cured steak. He couldn’t shake his fluster, snorting and bleating to himself as he shook his hands clean in a water bucket. Damned Wilbur, as if he hadn’t messed with his head enough, the blatant mockery was a step over the line. Yet, he had to admit - the teasing didn’t go without amusement. He felt his heart race in a good way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What do you propose we do with all that time you said we have?" Wilbur prodded, skulking down from the sill to sit on the bed. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I dunno," Schlatt joined him, albeit a little further away than usual, "Aren't you a singer? Sing to me."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"It's weird singing without the guitar," Now it was Wilbur’s turn for fluster.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"No need to get nervous about it - only I'll hear you."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He sighed, "I guess. But what should I even sing?" </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Whatever you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur paused to think. He did have songs of his own, but Schlatt scrutinised him enough without him putting his soul on the line. Besides, they were still in the works, and he needed the guitar to follow along. What songs would Schlatt know? He was never clear on his interests. Wilbur watched him move up the bed to lean back, propped up on the pillows. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Well, come on. Sing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur cleared his throat, leg shaking as he tried to think. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"What about… Do you know anything by Leonard Cohen?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"For Christ's sake, Wilbur, just pick a damn song already."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Fine." </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He took in a shaky breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"You know I love to live with you, but you make me forget so very much.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I forget to pray for the angels, and the angels forget to pray for us.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt smiled, ears flicking in time. His voice fell whisper-soft, "Carry on. I like that one."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now so long, Marianne. It's time that we began to laugh, and cry, and cry, and laugh about it all again.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Wilbur sighed, "I don't remember the rest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Schlatt watched him - quiet, awestruck - a smile tugging at his lips. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard Wilbur singing, but it was the first time he felt utterly enraptured in the lilt of his voice, in the way the sound swathed him. He was, for once in his life, at a loss for words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you… W-Was that okay?” Wilbur looked puzzled, amused, smirking a touch as he saw the pink rising again to Schlatt’s white ears.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“It was great, Wil,” He cleared his throat, looking away, “But you can wipe that look off of your face.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Make me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out the right response to that taunt. Infuriatingly, Wilbur just smiled back at him, smug as anything.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You do know you blush on your ears too, don’t you? It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He snorted a little, flicking the appendages in question, “I’m not blushing. And you’ve gained a lot of attitude in the last few days. Don’t be getting cute with me, Wil, it won’t end well for you.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Won’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span>  to know what he was doing to Schlatt; that grin wasn’t an innocent man’s to bear. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Can’t end worse than what’s coming.” He sounded so blasé about it, “What’ll you do to me, Schlatt? You gonna punish me?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The goatman curled his lip, huffed and sighed, stood up from the bed. He paced restlessly, gesturing towards Wilbur each time he attempted to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you doing this to me Wil? As if this wasn’t torture enough.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> I doing to you? You’ve not exactly made that clear.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You’re messing with my head.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt came closer, and ran a claw along Wilbur’s jawline. He canted his head into the touch, batting his eyelashes sweetly up at him.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“God… You’re fucking cute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was growled just above a whisper. Wilbur raised his brow a little, surprised with the sudden compliment, his cheeks turning pinkish. His reaction, however, sparked Schlatt backing away again. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Schlatt?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Wilbur. That’s weird. I didn’t mean to make you--” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Shut up, Schlatt.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The smut chapter is next :3c</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>it is time :3c</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>How it had led to this, Schlatt didn’t know. Wilbur’s arms were loosely around his neck, hands clumsily coming up to toy with his hair as he nibbled at his mouth. Schlatt held him by the waist, roughly pawing beneath the yellow fabric of Wilbur’s jumper, claws catching on his skin. It teased a whimper from Wilbur’s mouth, the pinpricks in his back shooting through him like lightning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt growled against his mouth, biting at his bottom lip hard enough to earn a gasp. His fangs caught on the sensitive skin, sufficient in drawing a drop of blood to the surface. The coppery taste on his tongue sent a throb of feral heat through him. Schlatt pulled his hands around to the front of Wilbur, and shoved him down onto the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every conflicting emotion Schlatt felt boiled over into a frenzy of teeth on Wilbur's throat, setting a line of angry bruises and torn skin. The goatman lapped up blots of blood like sacramental wine, seeking to parch the thirst Wilbur’s heavenly cries stoked. There came the rush of lotus-eating, an unholy hedonistic surge that came from defiling the divine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because that was what Wilbur was. He was something saintly; splayed out on the sheets under the muted sunset glow as it beamed gentle through the window. The light reflected prismatic against the deep brown of his tear-pricked eyes, the colours shattering and merging with every blink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the bones in Schlatt’s infernal body screamed to make those colours run. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Wilbur’s jumper away with such roughness that it tore holes in the wool. Schlatt's hands were greedy as they took up space, snatching at every inch of newly exposed skin, pawing along his chest with the hunger of the starved. Wilbur trembled beneath him. Each touch felt like fire, yet he ached for more - for the pleasant inferno conjured in the rake of Schlatt’s claws on his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur arched under him, trying to stifle every squeal that reached his mouth. His shaking fingers grabbed at the buttons of Schlatt's shirt, shucking it from his shoulders as soon as he'd fought his way down. Wilbur bit the inside of his cheek, wide eyes admiring the sculpted figure. He grazed a touch over the fuzz of Schlatt's broad chest, wiry fur lending to his beastly look.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His admiration was soon stolen away as Schlatt descended upon him again, snapping his teeth on Wilbur's collarbone, drawing a torrent of high, pleading whines. Wilbur felt like he was floating, body trembling below each mark, filled with an urge to grab onto something - anything - to tether him. He gripped Schlatt's horns.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was the hybrid's turn for noise, an blasphemous snarl cutting itself free as he reared his head up. His mouth was smeared red, rectangular pupils wide, ears flat against his horns. He licked his lips, curling them back to flash his bloodstained teeth. Such a fiendish sight had Wilbur gripping harder, dragging Schlatt up to face level. He gave a deep snort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fighting his head back from the grip, Schlatt stood up between Wilbur’s legs. He spared no decency in fully stripping Wilbur down, tossing his own clothes in a heap on the floor with them. He smiled at the sight presented to him: Wilbur, strewn on the sheets, alabaster skin from his jaw to his collar tarnished by bite wounds, roselike and bruised. It must have hurt, Schlatt considered, but he caught the glimpse of want in those seraphic, foggy eyes, bleary with pain and need, and he teased his claws down the expanse of his taut stomach.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur shivered, and shuddered a gasp with such softness that it could make even the angels weep - it had the devil’s legs trembling, sure enough. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“God, you’re pretty.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur had no words, just a whine. He kicked a leg around the back of Schlatt’s thighs, and pulled him in closer. The goatman gave a dry chuckle, leaning over him and giving a soft kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m warning you now, pretty boy,” His voice took on a wicked snarl, “If you grab me by my horns again, you’ll know worse than a few little bites.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“It’ll be no worse than what’s coming for us anyway,” Wilbur was breathy, quiet, reaching up to tease his fingers over Schlatt’s ears, “I’ll take a little trouble.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Propping himself up on an elbow, Schlatt slid his other hand back down Wilbur’s stomach, wrapping a loose fist around his cock. He jerked him slowly, watching his expressions change, admiring the flutter of his eyelashes, the slight drop of his jaw. He saw Wilbur’s chest convulse a tad when he picked up the pace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Wil? You want me to fuck you?” Schlatt’s voice was mocking, “Tell me, Wilbur. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Schlatt…” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Tell me, pretty boy," Schlatt tightened his grip, enough to make Wilbur squeal. He spoke firmer, “Or you get nothing.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Fuck me, Schlatt, please."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Attaboy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had no lube. Schlatt let go of his cock and offered the hand out to Wilbur’s face with a firm instruction: </span>
  <em>
    <span>suck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was a blatant look of fright, a glimpse to the sharp black claws directed his way. He leaned forward, lapping his tongue on the underside of two digits, eyes trained on Schlatt's face. He watched Schlatt's lips curl up in a depraved smile, and jolted under the twitch of his fingers. Drool pooled at the corners of his mouth as Schlatt pressed down on his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When sufficiently wet, Schlatt drew his hand away. A trail of spit chased the digits in their absence, severing as Wilbur moved back on the sheets. He was directed onto his belly, his legs pried apart, presenting himself to the goat. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I promise, I’ll try not to scratch.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur shivered in anticipation. He wished they had the foresight to trim those claws. Schlatt bit the sharp ends off of two digits, remarking, "You're lucky you're cute - I don't do this for everyone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt was surprisingly careful at first, teasing a finger over Wilbur's puckering hole. He spat on him, spreading the glob of saliva to better lube up the digit as it was pressed inside. Wilbur writhed on the quilt, soon pressed down with a hand between his shoulder blades, and a sharp instruction to stay still. But how was he supposed to? One digit felt like it was stretching him ruthlessly, Schlatt's finger thick and unforgiving as he started to pump it in and out.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The hand on his back slid up to his neck, into the scraggy brown locks at the bottom of his head, petting him as the pace picked up from rough to merciless. Wilbur yowled, gripping at the sheets like they were all that kept him together. Schlatt teased his other finger around the rim, spitting again, and dipping his head down to the scruff of Wilbur's neck. As he sunk the second one inside, he bit down hard on the soft skin, eliciting a heavenly howl. Wilbur clenched around him, wriggling beneath the weight on his back as Schlatt continued to work him open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like too much; Wilbur was dizzied. He gasped and panted, and though his head was spinning, he ached for more. He pushed himself back against Schlatt's hand, begging an urgent prayer, a loose stream of 'please' and 'Schlatt' and 'more'. And Schlatt, the devil he could be, chose then to slip his fingers out, revelling in the petulant bark of protest it drew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pretty boy, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Don't complain when you're getting your way."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He shifted above him, lining his cock up with Wilbur's abused hole. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"You want this, Wil?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Yes!" He pleaded. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Then ask nicely."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He gave an incredulous look over his shoulder - surely he’d been convincing enough in begging already. He clenched his jaw stubbornly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun had set now, the room awash with stifled blue-white moonlight that flooded in from behind Schlatt. In that hazy glow, he looked like something Elysian, his horns glimmering in the dim light, his features carved in shadow. But his voice, firm and coarse, and his eyes, dark and hungry - they reminded him of what the profane beast would do if Wilbur let him. He gave in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please, Schlatt," He implored, desperation sparking tears in his eyes, "Please, Schlatt, please."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Please </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" He raised his brow and smirked, sliding the head of his cock between the begging man's cheeks, precum smearing over the skin. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Fuck me! Please." </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Was that so hard?</span>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt braced Wilbur's hip with one hand, the other guiding his cock inside. The head stretched Wilbur enough to make him keen, clenching instinctively. But Schlatt pushed on, leaning down to press his chest flush to Wilbur’s back, pulling him in against him. He cooed quiet assurances into his ear, swallowing back the growl that tempted him as he was further sheathed inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his time to bottom out, snapping his teeth on Wilbur’s neck periodically, enjoying the way he jerked beneath him, the tightness pulsing around his cock. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“God, you’re tight,” Schlatt hissed, hips now flush to Wilbur’s ass. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Just… get on with it, stop making me wait.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Getting bossy, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt took the direction, perhaps in less than the way it was intended. He pulled out sharply, digging his claws into Wilbur’s hip, the other hand gripping his upper arm, vicelike. Wilbur hardly had time to blink before Schlatt slammed his hips forward again, enough to jolt him forward on the sheets. A divine cry was thrown to the air: half pleasure, half complaint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he shouldn't have poked the ram. Wilbur was flat to the sheets, a mess of moans and sobs, arching up against the body that pinned him in place. The covers grazed his cock with each ruthless thrust, and the stimulation was almost suffocating. He could feel the cool surface of Schlatt's horns butt him in the temple as he shifted behind him, better angling himself, tip grazing Wilbur's prostate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt fucked him with all the devotion a flagellant would mortify the flesh. He couldn't stifle the deep growl that bubbled in his throat, or swallow a slew of curses that came with his approaching peak. He moved away for a moment, encouraging Wilbur onto his back before sinking inside of him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to see your face when you come for me." </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The words made Wilbur shudder with delight, rouged cock dripping onto his stomach. He tossed an arm over his face, to which Schlatt yanked it away, digging his claws in as he pinned both arms above Wilbur's head.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"What did I just say? Let me see your face."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was worth it to see him. His cheeks were flushed heavily, pretty and pink, tinged in a sheen of sweat. Tears had spilled out from the corners of his eyes, yet they still held a distinct brightness - a confidence - that sent a shiver down Schlatt's spine. A rush of narcissistic pride came through him as he admired all the pretty rosettes trailing down his neck, a prize on his handiwork of completely taking Wilbur apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his forehead to Wilbur's as his hips hit a more irregular stutter, pleasure climbing rapidly, aided with the way Wilbur clenched around him after every thrust. Schlatt adjusted again, managing to hit his prostate dead-on, and grinned at the enchanting sound it caused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You gonna come for me, Wil?" Schlatt wrapped a hand around his length, pumping steadily. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Words failed him, making only a garbled near 'yes' and a pleading sound. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Good boy, Wil, good boy. Come." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he did, it was like rapture. Schlatt lost himself to the pitch of Wilbur's ecstacy, the high, shrill cry as he painted his belly in white. Schlatt's hips bucked steadily into Wilbur's as he filled him, body in a heap sprawled on top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur's hands came up to his horns in the comedown, and pulled his head up again. Schlatt couldn't complain, fucked out and drowsy, moving with the direction to catch Wilbur in a kiss. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Did I hurt you?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Not badly. I liked it."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They rearranged themselves, and lay in silence by each other's side. Wilbur set his head on the goatman's chest, and teased his fingers through the soft brown and white fur that coated it. In turn, Schlatt combed his fingers through Wilbur's hair, lulling him into a gentle slumber. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This had been the culmination of a lot of inner turmoil for him. Schlatt supposed he could hardly deny his feelings at this point; it's not typical to have sex with someone you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't</span>
  </em>
  <span> have an interest in - not passionately. That's how he had always seen it anyway. But he supposed that was the way he was raised to see it - he grew up around the constant reminders of 'no sex before marriage'. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He figured that was another wrong to add to the pile: another broken rule to add to the list. He reasoned that the sodomy should go on there too, for good measure. It didn't matter, not anymore. These benign rules stood little consequence in the face of his inexorable ending. Heaven's gates would be shut for him - regardless of tonight, regardless of his feelings, even regardless of his plotting to destroy L’Manberg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because when it came down to it, Schlatt had always been a selfish, greedy, cruel minded man. He would sell someone down the river to make a quick buck. Being a scam artist was something that, at one point, he considered to be a talent. He manipulated Wilbur, who he knew had a soft spot for him, into going along with every deplorable concept he came up with. Schlatt was not a good person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could kick himself for only wanting to change that when it was already too late - for only accepting it when he </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> had something other than himself he cared about. Schlatt sighed, and pressed a kiss to Wilbur's forehead. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I'm sorry for all the horrible things I put you through. You deserve better than that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water was halfway up the tower.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>genuinely had so much fun writing this one i cant lie to you</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you to everyone who's left feedback and let me know how you've been enjoying it! it means a lot to me and im very grateful ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Neither man wanted to face the day. Though the water hadn't yet breached their sight through the window, they could now hear the way it lapped up against the tower walls, ever closer. Wilbur hid his face in the crook of Schlatt's neck, curled rigid at his side. True black was coming and there was nothing they could do - it was close enough now that it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all well and good when the water barely grazed the grass, or even when it came to their door - but now it was swallowing their home slowly. It slithered up the outer walls like they were prey in an ancient serpent’s maw, gradually sliding down its greedy oesophagus as it engulfed them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt rolled onto his side, tugging Wilbur close to him. They lay there in the cool morning light, naked as they came. A day’s estimate would be a generous judgement of how long they had left. They didn't know it would come for them so fast; they didn't know how little time they would have. No one told them it was exponential.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur was crying. Schlatt could just barely hear him. He cradled him against his chest, and kissed his head over a sea of fleecy brown. There was nothing to be said - it would just be a set of saccharine false assurances. All they could do now was wait. They could hear the splintering of glass on the bottom floor, where the pressure of the water threatened to shatter the windows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Schlatt could think was: </span>
  <em>
    <span>let it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Let the water burst through the windows - let it flood the tower from the bottom up. Maybe the redistribution would buy them a measly few more minutes before the inevitable. Let it push its way in through the cracks, let it split the panes into a thousand fractured pieces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Let it devour their home from the inside. There was nothing left for them now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This would be their last morning together - Schlatt considered that maybe they should make more of it than just cowering in the covers. He kissed Wilbur’s head once again, and crawled out of bed. He pulled on his boxers and wandered over to the food chest, taking the best cured steaks he had, and the small amount of salt in a little glass bottle. All they’d stashed would go to waste; he may as well make use of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the slate out of the cold furnace and used it to prepare the meats. Salt was sprinkled over them - one side, then the other. He rubbed it on the fatty edges. He washed his hands off in a water bucket and turned back to the chest, grabbing a couple of potatoes and knocking the eyes off with his claws. He took a couple of carrots by their stems in his other hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In one of the chairs, he sat and peeled the skins off with a small knife. Wilbur sat up in the bed, knees hugged up into his chest, and watched him work on preparing dinner. After a moment of staring, he slipped out from under the blanket, tugging on his underwear and his torn jumper, and stood by Schlatt’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lets treat ourselves to a full meal today, huh?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“May as well,” Wilbur kissed his head, “Thank you.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it, Wil,” He chopped the potatoes into quarters, and arranged them around the meat, with the carrots left whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food was slid in, and the furnace ignited. Schlatt washed his hands off again, shaking the wet off of him and onto the floor. It was time to assess the damage - to get a framework of how long they would have left. Schlatt trotted slowly to the sill; he didn’t have to look far to see the water - it came to just below the glass. He raised his head, glancing toward the ceiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur seemed to be on his tail, and he chuckled, turning to face him. He teased his claws over the line of bruises on his neck, and smiled as he felt him shiver under the touch. A sense of pride surged in Schlatt as he admired the marks. Where his teeth had pierced the skin had now scabbed over; he tried not to agitate it too much. The man, however, seemed to lean into the movement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No regrets about last night, then?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur shrugged, the slightest smirk catching his lips. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>it," Schlatt returned, "You're just a brat."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Mm, you had no complaints."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur moved closer, touching his head to Schlatt's own. There was only an inch or so between their heights, Wilbur being on the taller end, and yet Schlatt felt so much larger. He was broader built and more imposing; he had a bigger presence. Wilbur grazed his fingers over the back of a white ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This can't be it, can it?" His voice was forlorn.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I…" Would it be wrong to be honest? "It… It might be, Wilbur. It seems that way."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man closed his eyes, sighing softly. Schlatt could feel the weight of that breath wash over him, the suffocating pressure of knowing the end was nigh. Things were just beyond hope. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Let's try not to focus on that, alright?" The goat forced a cheery bleat to his tone, "We'll just focus on having dinner - that's what's next for us. Then... we deal with what comes after that."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing away from him, Schlatt wandered over to the bed again. He fluffed up the pillows, and shook out the quilt. The red of the covers did little to hide the now brownish blots of blood from the prior night. Schlatt smiled. He tucked the corners in, and smoothed out the wrinkles. Not once before today had he made the bed - it was always Wilbur's job. But he felt he should make today special - Wilbur was taking this far harder than him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a long while to wait until the food was ready: at least another two hours. Outside, the gentle pitter-patter of rain began to tap on the window. Droplets beaded together and rolled down the glass in steady rivers, debouching into the great lake below.</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The water level came up past the sill now, and rocked up against the glass. On its surface, Wilbur's crops lay uprooted, a reminder of his destroyed daily routine. Being limited to just the bedroom left them with little option for amusement, and Wilbur was too sad for song. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking through the undulating blue, Schlatt could make out figures running for the shelter in the city, arms over their heads to fight off the rainfall. A figure took pause and watched, green and white rocking in a watery smudge. Something came it's way, tugging it from where it spied on the flooding fish tank. Schlatt watched them leave in a sorrowful acceptance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since he was a boy, Schlatt knelt, his palms together. He spoke in a mumble, and Wilbur could scant make out the diction of his prayer. Toward the end, he heard:</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Spare us, O Lord.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Graciously hear us, O Lord.</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>
      <br/>
    </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Have mercy on us</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The goatman stood with a sigh. He looked over his shoulder to Wilbur and gave a forced smirk. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"There's one of those prayers you've never heard me do."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Bit generous to say I heard it."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt chuckled, "Welcome to the church experience - just a room of monotonous mumbling followed by 'amen'."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur laughed. He reached a hand out to Schlatt and slid it down his arm when he came to stand before him. There was something comforting to be found in the presence of another in such bleak times, a sense of solidarity in knowing that they faced the same end. Wilbur also noted that there was a contentedness - morbid as it may be - in the fact that he wouldn’t have to die alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though they could see the rise, punctuated by the movement of the rain on the encroaching flood, it still had the air of something distant. There remained a disbelief that it was really happening, a desperate desire for life that screamed ‘this can’t be it.’ Denial assured him that they would make it out of this, that Dream would intervene, that the barrier would spring a leak somehow, that something - </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> - would happen to change their fate. Schlatt took his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always hoped I’d marry before I die,” Wilbur remarked, “Not necessarily have any children, I mean… I have a son in Fundy, and that was enough for me. But I hoped to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>married </span>
  </em>
  <span>before I died.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt nodded, “Before this, I wanted to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>rich</span>
  </em>
  <span> before I died.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“That tracks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you want to do now, if you had the chance?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Figure out how to be less shitty,” He sighed, “Make amends with the people I’ve screwed over.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur pulsed his hand, “Good aspirations.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Too bad it’s too late, huh?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“At least you got to achieve some of it - you’re twice the man you used to be.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time passed surprisingly quick from there, spent in quiet, sporadic conversation. Their little talks were interrupted by the smell of their dinner  - small scraps on the slate beginning to burn. They dressed for their last meal; they donned their Sunday best - the same as they had worn the day before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt pulled the food from the oven. The meat had caramelised beautifully, charred a little around the edges and scented with smoke. The potatoes were crispy - the carrots too - but on the inside they were soft, and they cut easily under his knife. Fluffy flakes came off of the potatoes as they were given a testing slice, and vanished in the pooling liquid from the beef. He halved the meal, and drizzled the juices from the bottom of the slate over the top of the steaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If only we had a drink to go with it. Bon appetit.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>They cheers-ed with a forkful each.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>A few bites in, Wilbur smiled, “It’s good. Thank you.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Y’know, I never could have imagined this. Us, sitting down, having dinner together so… I don’t know - peacefully?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“We should do it more often,” Wilbur joked. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’d like that.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Smiling wistfully down at his plate, Schlatt gave a raw chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a turbulent relationship they’d shared over the course of knowing one another. God knows what spurred Wilbur to stick around with him so long; he didn’t exactly give him want to. He should have been a better man, a kinder man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Sure.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt nudged at his meat with a claw, contemplating how to say what was on his mind, “Why did you… you know.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Why did I go along with the plot?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The ram nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed, taking another bite, “Because I care about you, and you’ll do a lot for the people you care about.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He creased his brow, “I don’t think </span>
  <em>
    <span>most people</span>
  </em>
  <span> care enough to try and blow up their city.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> underestimate how much I cared about you.”  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>There was a slight blush on Schlatt’s face.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I suppose there’s no loss in me being honest - I might not get another chance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur looked up from his plate, making sure he had Schlatt’s full attention.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I loved you. I still do, but… That’s why I stuck around. And at the time, it felt so stupid - I knew you didn’t care about me, not really. I knew you just wanted me to do shit for you. But I stuck around because I hoped, by some miracle, I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> you love me. Or, at least, make you care about me a little more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hybrid tilted his head, ears low. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“When you left, it ruined me. I knew that was ridiculous… and Phil told me it was better if you were gone, too, but I didn’t listen to him. I just wanted you to come back. And when you did -- Schlatt, I would have done anything for you. That’s why I’m here, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you knew then what you know now,” Schlatt started, “In terms of how it would all play out, and where we would be because of it… Would you still have gone along with me?”  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur paused, a heavy sigh breaking the quiet, “I don’t know.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The rain had picked up outside, rattling against the remaining half of the window. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I wouldn’t think so - I had a family to think about. But, at the same time…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt sighed. The rest of the dinner was passed in silence, broken only by the rhythmic patter of rain, and the low rumble of the water’s sway against the walls. There was something strange in finding out now how Wilbur felt about him, worse still that it verified his former suspicions. He used that to get his way. He took advantage of Wilbur, and that abuse was what brought the poor man’s end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, Wilbur still loved him. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From below came an awful clatter, chased with the rush of water. It flooded the floor with a great splash, quickly filling to the top of the downstairs window. The level outside barely changed. Wilbur’s eyes were wide with fright; his heart in his mouth. He shook and swallowed hard, glancing desperately at Schlatt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The goat rushed to the ladder, peering down. Water continued to lurch inside, slowly creeping up the inner walls. The rain was coming down at a staggering rate, as though it sought to fill the little space made in redistribution. Overwhelming was the sound, built to a crescendo as more water filled the building, more rain clattered into the walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt grabbed Wilbur by the wrist, wrenching him toward the ladder, "We're going up to the roof!” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>only one more to go now!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the final chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Within minutes of being out on the roof, Wilbur’s hair was plastered to his brow, and Schlatt’s horns were dripping in time with the beating rain. Beyond the building’s edge, they could see the steady creep of the water, well above their bedroom window now. At such an altitude, the wind was strong, blowing droplets into their faces. It was hard to keep a steady footing. Lightning cracked the sky. Thunder boomed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur held Schlatt’s hand so hard that it hurt. Schlatt didn’t care: he held back just as tight, as though the ache was an anchor. Thrashing on the water’s surface, the rain made a terrible roar, a clamour overwhelming in combination with the howling wind that bit at them. Panic was starting to gnaw at them both; they were staring in the jaws of death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Against the unrelenting wall of sound, Schlatt screamed furiously. He shook his hand free from Wilbur’s, and strode toward the edge of the building, dropping down to his knees as he bleated again. He beat his fists into the stone, the force climbing with each rage-laden blat. The white of his ears was tinged pink with fury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is really how it ends, huh?” He snarled, gaze fixed on the sky, “This is it? You’re gonna to let this happen? Did we really commit such ‘sins’ that </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what we deserve?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Schlatt panted, his throat burning. The rain got in his eyes but he just blinked back against the sting. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“This isn’t right! This isn’t how it should be! Whatever happened to second chances?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The goatman spluttered. His face was freezing from the raging storm, his mutton-chops slick to his skin. Wilbur could do naught but watch, and wonder if his pleas were directed to Dream, or God. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m sorry, alright? How many times do I have to say it before it means something!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hair was in his eyes, and his ears were drooping and dripping. He screamed in frustration again, but nothing changed. The torrent was unrelenting; the final tide was coming in. His last ditch pleading with a higher power had failed him, and the intensity of his prayer left him in a coughing fit. Wilbur came up beside him, and sat down on the wet stone. He pet his back in slow circles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is it.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“This is it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur moved closer, leaning his head on Schlatt’s shoulder. Neither knew what to say. They locked hands again, and sat in the pouring rain until it slowly started to subside. And when it did, crepuscular rays slid down through tiny gaps in the clouds.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“They call them Jacob’s Ladders. ‘Stairway to heaven’.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The puddles on the roof glimmered in the climbing light; Schlatt’s horns glimmered, too. Wilbur tossed his legs over the edge of the building, and kicked his feet through the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I tell you a story?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur nodded.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“When I was a boy, me and the family went down to the beach. I must have only been about five years old at the time. It was summer - late July, actually - but it wasn’t that busy, it wasn’t a touristy area. My dad and I, we went into the sea for a swim, and… Wil, you don’t realise how cold the water is, even in the scorching heat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Wilbur squeeze his hand when he paused.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“When you go into the water at first, the tide is warm - it’s not too bad. But you wade out further and further, and by the time you’re up to your knees in it, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so cold</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I kept going - I didn’t want to look like a pussy, not in front of my dad, but fuck… It was freezing, Wilbur. You’d never believe how cold it was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And dad? He was wading in it too, splashing me as he went, and I was splashing him back. But I felt… I don’t know - sick, maybe? My whole body was going stiff. I shrugged it off, I wasn’t throwing away the first time I got to see my dad in months for a little bit of cold in my bones, y’know?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As we went deeper into the water, I had to swim to keep up with him. The waves were coming in from the distance, but low - there wasn’t much wind, even for the seaside. It still rocked you though, and I was only small. I couldn’t keep my balance well. One wrong move, and I was pulled under.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt swallowed hard, pulling at his collar with his free hand. The water spilled over onto the roof.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Everything was so blurry - the salt water stung my eyes. Dumb as it sounds, it was like I couldn’t find my limbs, I just flailed like hell to get to the surface. But I couldn’t break it, I don’t know why. Maybe it was all the flailing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice grew strained; he spoke a little quicker.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“And desperately, I tried to fight my way to the top, but I could feel the water dragging me back down. There was seaweed around my legs. I tried to breathe but, fuck, that was the wrong move.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He cleared his throat. He laughed, uneasy. He tugged at his collar again.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I felt the water in my throat, I felt it burn. I couldn’t retch it up, not while I was under. It was in my lungs, I swear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schlatt shuddered, staring straight ahead. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“My dad dragged me out of the water in the end. I don’t remember that - I just remember choking up mouthfuls of salt water onto the sand and gasping for air. It felt awful. We went home after that; my parents didn’t speak once in the car. That trip was the last time I saw my dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur lifted their locked hands, kissing his knuckles. Schlatt had never spoken so candidly about his family before; it took coming face to face with his childhood trauma to break that silence. It was strange, in all that time spent in the tower - in all that time serving this sentence - Schlatt had never spoken about when he almost drowned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This whole time, I’ve been telling myself - you’ve been through this before, and you were fine. You almost drowned, but you lived. You know what’s coming, you know how cold the water is, you know how it drags you under. But someone will come and save you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been in just as much denial of their circumstance. There was no dissenting it now, not while the water lapped behind them. He spoke his story for a reason: the acceptance that he would have to live it again. The tide licked at them, moving around their thighs.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“And now? Now I can’t hold that belief. Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> is here to save us. I know when I’m beat - I mean, what are the options?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we only have </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> option.” Wilbur spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man sounded so </span>
  <em>
    <span>worn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, looking towards the ram with tired eyes. Schlatt gave him a knowing look, and stood up. He pulled Wilbur up with him, keeping a hold of his hand. For a moment, they stood still, quiet. The cool breeze whipped across their faces, and with it, the scent of ozone from the storm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pensive quiet, staring out over the horizon. At the edge of the boundary, there was now a steep drop from the top of the water to the grass on the other side. Framed meagre in the distance, diffracted by the water’s sway, L’Manberg stood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you scared?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Not as scared as I thought I'd be," Schlatt looked ahead, "But it's in my hands, this time. It was my choice. That, and the adrenaline, I guess."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Wilbur nodded.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> scared?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“No. Not anymore.” </span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur gave a sad smile. He felt a paw raise their hands, claw swiping a tear from his cheek. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"Ready?"</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>"As I’ll ever be."</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>They shared a chaste kiss.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>From a quiet countdown, they stepped out over the edge.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The water dragged them down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the descent, Wilbur’s stare was heavenbound, watching through the mist of blue. The sunlight on the surface was a splintered mosaic; the harlequin shards trembling on the flow. A flash of green moved upon the face of the waters. Strips of blurry light spilled down. He turned to Schlatt, and together, they let their eyes fall closed. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>please let me know what you think! this was a hell of a piece to write, and i'm pretty proud of how it went! all the feedback I've received in the process of uploading this has been mind-blowing, and it's meant a lot to me. thanks to each and everyone one of you who stayed along for the ride, even if it was emotional. </p><p>if anyone has suggestions for what to come next, feel free to let me know!</p><p>also: I would be willing, should interest be there, to add to this a thing describing my thought process behind it, linguistic and narrative choices, and other author-y stuff!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let me know what you think! Apologies for how late in the smut is, but I wanted to do something a little longer and more complex.<br/>There is also a playlist related to this which I may share later down the line!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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